


Jehovah

by MadHatter2019



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Original Fiction, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 15:26:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19065388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadHatter2019/pseuds/MadHatter2019
Summary: While in Baghdad during Operation Iraqi Freedom, Joselyn McDowell was nearly killed by an IED while pursing a mysterious artifact.  Known only as the Mouthpiece of Jehovah, the pages containing its location have been scattered throughout the Middle East to prevent its use as a weapon.Seven years, the Marine who saved her life suddenly reappears in her life with the same mission: find the location of the mouthpiece before it falls into terrorist hands at all costs.  Will Emma successfully locate the pages and discover the location?  Or will the job that has haunted her finally claim her life?





	1. Prologue

Iraq, 2007  
A five-truck convey pulled swiftly out of the Iraqi Museum of Antiquities just as the sun started to appear over the desert horizon. It moved quickly through the streets of Baghdad towards the outskirts of the city hoping to avoid the early morning traffic jam of animals, carts, and broken-down cars. Their destination was a small village north of the town, and they wanted to be back safely before sundown. Every marine in the vehicles was on alert and observing the crowd for insurgents as they made their way through the curvy streets. The only person not looking out the window was a civilian passenger riding in the back seat between two marines, utterly oblivious to her surroundings.  
Joselyn McDowell was intently studying the file in her lap while simultaneously trying to keep the papers in order as her Humvee hit every pothole and bump in the street. Dressed in tactical gear that felt heavy on her small frame and a helmet that hid most of her braided, auburn hair, she tried to concentrate despite the less than smooth drive. As a graduate intern at the Iraqi Museum, she felt excited by the prospect of what she would hopefully see today. A find like this, if authenticated, could solidify her future career; if the intelligence was correct. That feeling alone felt like electricity running through her veins. The marine sergeant in charge of her escort, Sergeant West, sat to her right and momentarily stopped his observation of the crowd to ask her some questions.  
“So, what exactly are we after today, ma’am?”  
Joselyn did not look up from her papers as she answered. “From what I can tell, it is a document page over three thousand years old written in ancient Hebrew. It was housed in the museum vault before the invasion and has been missing since 2003. I don’t think it was ever on display. And please don’t call me ma’am. Josie works just fine”, she said, her professional tone ending with a flash of sarcasm. Sergeant West hid his smirk as he posed his next question.  
“Why is an old page such an important find that the museum would not even display it? That doesn’t make sense.”  
"I have been working on translating the script from the photograph the curator took before the theft, and it seems to be directions for finding something called the Mouthpiece of Jehovah. If you believe the legend, the mouthpiece was a breastplate that the high priests of Israel wore to communicate with God, but no one has seen it or written of it since Babylon conquered the Jews. If the museum records are correct, this page is dated after it disappeared, but it is only one page out of who knows how many. If someone went to the trouble of stealing this one page, they must be on the hunt for the plate. If that plate fell into the wrong hands, it could be catastrophic."  
“Why? If it is just a metal plate, why would that be such a big deal?”  
Joselyn looked up at her escort, "It was rumored to have divine powers that if misused could be used as a weapon. No one's quite sure what it's made of, so it's anyone's guess at this point."  
The sergeant nodded and looked back out the window, but his mind was still on his civilian passenger. She was at least a few years younger than him but mature for her age. Her loaned tactical gear made her seem even smaller by the sheer bulk of it. Her auburn hair was braided down her back under her helmet, and he noticed the click of a tongue ring when she spoke. That had surprised him, but that was what their generation was into these days. He had met her the evening before at the mission briefing and was surprised at her maturity and ease with the Marine Force Recon team assigned to escort her. Granted, he had begrudgingly accepted this "babysitting" duty, but at least she was competent and not some brainless academic out of her depth. He had noticed the familiar relationship between her and his commanding officer, but he had not put it together until after introductions that this intern was also the commander's daughter. The pieces all slipped into place at least in his mind. General McDowell was in charge of assisting the Iraqi's with retrieving their stolen artifacts before they could be sold on the black market, and of course, he had arranged for his daughter to receive an internship at the museum during his tour. What had surprised the sergeant the most was that this girl was not just some pretty-faced academic but intelligent, fluent in several languages, and entirely at ease with the soldiers around her. All products of being raised as a marine brat. He still thought that assigning a Force Recon unit a bit much, but what the general wanted, the general got.  
The squad leader was still analyzing his thoughts when a commotion over the radio snapped him to attention. They were just outside of Baghdad heading north when an explosion in front of the first vehicle brought the entire convoy to a halt. Joselyn looked up in alarm but did not express outward panic and looked to her escort for information. The marines scrambled out of the Humvee and took cover behind their doors. The sergeant spoke to his passenger while keeping his eyes on their surroundings.  
“Stay calm. It may be nothing but an old IED that never detonated, but we are still going to be cautious. Stay where you are and keep quiet.” Joselyn attempted to argue, but his gaze nailed her to her spot, “Stay here!”  
The words were hardly out of his mouth when they started taking fire from somewhere in front of the convoy. Joselyn kept her head down and between the rifle shots she heard the marines call for reinforcements. Joselyn crouched in the back of the Humvee trying to keep calm when suddenly everything went quiet. It was several seconds before she heard whistling coming from beneath her. She looked at the sergeant in a panic as he hauled her out of the vehicle before the IED detonated. The blast of the explosion flung them both several feet from the car. The sergeant found himself on his back, vision blurry but otherwise not in much pain. He sat up quickly, grabbed his M4, and looked around swiftly. He spotted her about fifteen feet away lying face down in the sand, the red braid showing under her helmet instantly telling him it was her. He crawled and scrambled his way to her within seconds, the other marines forming a perimeter and waiting for the chopper reinforcements they could hear in the distance. He placed two fingers on her neck and swore under his breath when he found a pulse. He carefully rolled her over. She was completely unconscious, but she had a pulse. The sergeant sighed in relief until he saw a pool of blood growing underneath her left shoulder and pieces of shrapnel protruding from her arm. He swore loudly this time as he yelled into his radio for a medevac chopper.


	2. Chapter One

Virginia, 7 Years Later

Connor West combed his wet, light-brown hair back before straightening his tie in the mirror. He had been out in the field monitoring his team's exercises when he got a phone call that the brass wanted to talk to him. The word ‘brass' made him swear in Creole with his boss's secretary on the phone, which he promptly apologized for before hanging up. A meeting with the brass meant wearing a suit and tie and keeping his opinions to himself. At the height of just over six feet and stocky, muscular build, Connor looked well put together when he dressed in a suit. He had let his hair grow a little longer on top, but he kept the sides cut close to the skin. Paired with almost constant scruff on his chin, Connor knew he personified the “bad-boy” look that had women flirting with him when he did manage to find time for a social life. Considering how rare an occurrence that was, Connor never gave his looks much thought. He checked his reflection once more to make sure his razor got everything off his face before leaving the bathroom muttering, “Damn suit!”  
His boss's secretary gave him a wry smile when he walked into the office before ushering him into the conference room. His boss, James Whitaker, was the head of the Defense Threat Reduction Agency based out of Fort Belvoir, Virginia. James was talking to the Secretary of Defense, Mr. Taylor, when Connor walked in and stopped as soon as they noticed him. James stepped up and shook his hand, "McConnor, come in and have a seat."   
Connor could feel the tension in the room as he sat. The fact that his boss’s boss’s boss was in on this meeting spoke volumes, but before anything could be said, the door opened, and a man in an Army uniform walk in to join them. Connor turned to see his old friend, Sergeant Major Clark Fagan, stepped in. Clark walked immediately to Connor.   
“Connor, how have you been,” Clark asked as he shook his hand.   
"I've been doing alright, how ‘bout yourself," Connor's Cajun accent coming through roughly as he asked the question.   
“I’ve been doing okay, staying busy.”  
The two men sat down as Mr. Taylor cleared his throat. He opened a folder and slid it across the table in front of Connor. "Now that the pleasantries are over let's get down to business. Mr. West, I have read through your file, and I am led to believe that you have seen the object in this photograph before." Connor picked up the picture and studied it. It did look vaguely familiar, but he could not place from where and said as much.   
“Think back seven years to your last mission in Iraq.”  
Connor’s mind flashed back to the Humvee convoy and the aftermath of that last IED. He brought his mind back to present when he realized that Mr. Taylor was waiting for an answer. “Yes sir, I believe I remember.”  
"Good. Now the reason we are having this briefing today is that a volatile situation has occurred in the Middle East as of a few days ago. That page in the picture is the same page you were looking for back in 2007. Our intelligence, provided by Sgt. Fagan, now says that ISIS has located this particular page and is searching for the others."   
Connor shook his head and scoffed under his breath. “You are worried about ISIS having a page from some three-thousand-year-old book? What in the hell does it matter if terrorists have some antique book?”   
James Whitaker cleared his throat, “There was a theft this morning at the Jerusalem Museum. Now I’m sure you are wondering what this has to do with the price of tea in China. The answer is that this museum housed another page from the same document, in a secure vault that supposedly no one knew about.”  
"ISIS stealing pages from an ancient book is hardly a reason to send our department into the Middle East. Send in the cowboys from Langley."   
Clark leaned forward, “Connor, do you remember what these pages lead to?”  
“Not particularly.”  
"The point, gentlemen, is that these pages could lead to a weapon of mass destruction, which I believe means your department, Mr. West. This comes from the highest level. Your team's objective is to stop ISIS from obtaining the rest of these pages. Now we have an independent contractor that will be going along in the field. She specializes in recovery and authenticating stolen artifacts and happens to be an expert on this particular topic. I believe you are already acquainted with Dr. McDowell.”   
Connor closed his eyes and lowered his head, knowing exactly who the Secretary of Defense was referring to and what loose ends they were going to tie up. The Secretary of Defense stood to signal to the rest of the gentlemen in the room that the meeting was over. James asked Connor to wait outside while he said a few words to Clark.

~~~~~

Connor waited outside until the brass had left before cornering Clark as he was leaving the conference room. "Were you aware this whole time that I knew the McDowells?”  
Clark leaned against the wall and looked up at the ceiling contemplating his next words.   
“Yes, I knew that the accident you were in involved Jo. Even after I said I was an old family friend, you never talked about it. I figured it was a painful memory that you would rather not relive, so I left it alone. I had no idea this project would come back around.”   
Connor loosened his tie and ran a hand through his hair. He had been hoping that all these memories would stay in the past, but unfortunately, he was not going to get his wish. "So how is the kid these days?"   
Clark laughed, “Kid is hardly the word I would use. And do you really expect me to believe that you haven’t checked in on her this whole time, Connor?”  
"I may have looked in on her over the years, though she would never know it," Connor said with a frown at being caught out by Clark.   
“I’ll buy you a drink and fill you in.” Clark drove them to a local pub and picked a table near the back where it was quiet. He handed Connor the case file.   
"So, is General McDowell still a hard ass? I thought he was going to kill me himself when he met us at the hospital like it was my fault."  
“Yeah well, Earl McDowell has always been over-protective of Jo, obsessively so at times. The truth is, he probably blamed himself for what happened to her, but you were a convenient target.”  
“I take it there’s some history there that I’m not aware of?”  
“Jo’s mom died in a car accident while Earl was deployed in Bosnia. Jo was thirteen years old at the time. A drunk driver blew through a red light, t-boning their vehicle. Jo's mother died on impact, but Jo spent several weeks in the hospital. After that, Earl swore he would protect her, made sure she got into whatever school she wanted, even helped her land that graduate internship.” Clark paused to order them both a scotch.   
“After the incident in Iraq, Earl put in his retirement papers to take care of her. He runs their family’s horse farm in upstate New York.”  
Connor looked over the file while Clark talked, but he spied something unusual.  
"It says in here that the Department of Defense has tried to recruit her for other  
cases before, but it didn't work out. She said no?"   
Clark laughed, “On the contrary, she probably would have said yes. She’s been to Central and South America, Europe, Asia, and Africa both for the college she works for and on loan to Langley and Interpol. The problem is her old man. Every time we have a job we'd like to use her for, her father gets wind and stonewalls it. He still has his contacts in the Pentagon and does not want his daughter working for us, family friend or no."  
“So how has she been doing? Last I checked, she was in New York City.”  
Clark laughed, “She’s been teaching for NYU for the last four years and doing well. The rest you’ll have to ask her about.”  
“Why?”  
“It will give you guys something to talk about.”   
“Right," Connor said sarcastically, not liking how this situation was shaping up at all. In his experience, academics tend to get themselves hurt in the field, and Dr. McDowell had already managed that at least once.  
“What have you been up to since I saw you last? Leaving a trail of hearts behind you?”  
Connor took a drink of his scotch and stretched back in his chair with a smirk at his friend’s teasing, “Let’s see, after we served together in 2009, I went back home to Louisiana for a spell. Once policy changed over there, I didn’t appreciate having to fight with what felt like one hand tied behind my back. Plus, my mama took sick. After she passed, the DOD offered me a civilian position in the Defense Threat Reduction Agency as commander of their rapid response team, which was a shock to me. And I don’t leave a trail of hearts behind me. They all know well in advance that I’m not a long-term kinda guy. It’s the nature of the job.”  
Clark looked at him with a smile that made Connor tilt his head to the side.   
“What are you smiling at?”  
“Did you know that General McDowell wrote you a letter of recommendation? About two months after we served together, he submitted a recommendation that DTRA recruit you as commander for their rapid response team.”   
Clark could see that had shocked Connor to his core considering he had his glass of scotch stopped halfway to his mouth. “Seriously?”  
Clark nodded. Connor sat back and looked at the picture he was shown earlier in the briefing. That tour of duty held a lot of pain for him because he had always felt responsible for her getting hurt.   
“So, you said you were an old family friend, how so?”  
“Our fathers grew up together in New York. After Desert Storm, my father separated to run the family business while Earl stayed in until his wife died. Once Jo was ready to leave for college, he rejoined. You know, I was there with her when she woke up after surgery. The first thing she asked about was you.”  
“Really?”   
“Yes, but that was before I knew you. When you mentioned the accident that night in Kandahar, I knew exactly who you were talking about.”  
“So, what’s the plan, boss?”  
“We’ll be heading to New York tomorrow. Then you guys will be spending the weekend at her dad’s place.”  
Connor almost choked on his scotch causing a chuckle to escape from Clark.   
"That will give you guys as much of a stress-free area that I can provide for you to get comfortable with each other. After that, it's back down here to Virginia for a few days of intensive training with your team."   
“Why are we doing this at father’s place instead of the compound? He’s not exactly my biggest fan.”  
“Not even remotely Connor, but that’s not the point. I know you’ll take care of her, but I want to make sure she’s comfortable with everything before sending her in with your team. I need her head in the game. The last time she went after this thing, it almost killed her. And we need Earl onboard with it, so he doesn't kill the mission before it starts.”  
Connor nodded, “I understand.”

~~~~~~~

Dr. Joselyn McDowell sat on the desk in a small lecture hall at New York University observing her students as they worked through a complex set of uncovered remains. She was hoping her students would quickly put together the origins, identification, and importance of the remains she had put up on the smart board, but at the moment they were stuck on national origin. Her class on ancient funerary remains at NYU was one of the most challenging in the curriculum, but also one of the most popular. Completing this course would prepare any doctoral student for a future career in archeological fieldwork. Jo was brought back from her musing when she heard one of her students hit upon the right answer after minutes of heated debate.  
“They are from ancient Assyria based on the armor, orientation of the grave, and the dagger to his right. It’s clearly Assyrian but before Ramses II’s invasion.”  
“Congratulations Ms. Pratt on the right answer, but now I would like you to explain to the class your process for this supposition.”   
Ms. Pratt began explaining her theory when Jo caught movement in the hallway outside her door out of the corner of her eye. A smile spread on her face when she saw Clark Fagan outside her door, waving. Tall with sandy, blonde hair, Clark had been her friend since they were four-years-old. She could not remember a time when they were not playing together or badgering each other, but it had been quite a few years since they had seen each other. Their hectic work schedules did not leave much time for frequent visits, but they kept in touch by phone and email whenever possible. Jo could tell there was a second person in the hall but could not see him. She pointed at her watch and mouthed "twenty minutes" to which Clark nodded and replied "your office" in return. With a nod, Jo refocused on her student's excellent investigative work and walking her students through the rest of the identification.  
Clark began to walk down the hall, but Connor could not move away from his shielded view of a girl he had not seen in seven years. The person who walked in was not the young girl he had expected to see, but rather a woman, all grown up. Joselyn McDowell looked the part in black pumps, a black and white, A-line skirt, and sweater, but something in her demeanor did not match her outfit. It was almost as though they did not fit together. It was a feeling he understood very well. Her red hair pulled to the side in a bun at the nape of her neck; she sat with her legs crossed utterly oblivious to his observation, her focus sharply directed at her class. Connor continued to stare until he heard Clark clear his throat. He looked up to see a grin plastered all over his face.  
“Some kid, huh,” Clark said with a laugh as he led the way to Jo’s office. 

It was not long before Jo opened the door to greet her friend. The man she saw standing by her window stopped her dead in her tracks. She had not seen him in seven years, but Josie would have recognized him anywhere. They looked at each other without a word for the span of several moments before she turned to find Clark waiting patiently.  
"Uh Fagan," she said awkwardly, "this is an unexpected surprise." He pulled her into a big hug before turning to Connor.   
“Ma Cherie, this is…”  
“Sergeant West,” Joselyn stated while eyeing him with curiosity, his piercing blue-grey eyes the same as they had been in Baghdad. His hair was longer on top, and he sported a goatee, both showing signs of graying. He was wearing a navy, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his forearms and tucked into dark jeans. Josie could tell he had been working out in the last seven years considering the changes to his frame. In Baghdad, Sergeant West had been in shape but much smaller. Now he towered over her with fifteen pounds of added muscle.   
For his part, Connor could not believe how much Josie McDowell had changed since the last time he had checked up on her three years ago. She had matured during those years and now stood as a confident woman in front of him. He held her gaze while she looked him over, but when his gaze dropped down to her right shoulder, Josie cleared her throat.  
“It’s nice to see you again ma’am…sorry, Dr. McDowell. And its Agent West these days,” Connor said in the same deep voice that held a touch of gravel to it.  
Jo smiled at his recollection that she did not like being called "ma'am." Hearing his voice momentarily took her back to that day, but Josie quickly remembered that Clark was present and turned toward him.  
“Ma Cherie, huh? This must be important for you to try sweet talking me after not even sending me a Christmas card last year,’ Josie said with enough sass to make Connor chuckle. "I need to run to the department office to grab my mail first so make yourselves at home."  
She paused to look back at Connor before walking back out of her office. Clark watched Connor gaze passively out of the window, but he could tell that this had agitated him. While Connor had checked up on Josie from time to time, he had never interacted with her. He had not been ready for the woman who walked in the room a few minutes prior. She had recognized him instantly and leveled him to the spot he was standing in with her smoky, green eyes. He had not remembered her eye color, but the look of instant recognition had left him speechless. Her gaze had held many emotions that he had not expected. It was a haunted look of memories coming to the surface and shock, but also a thinly veiled interest that he had not expected. Connor looked up to find Clark gazing at him sympathetically.   
“Well that was awkward Clark, so thank you for that. You could have warned her that I was coming,” Connor said sarcastically.   
"Well, for one thing, I did not want to give either of you time to dwell on the idea of working together. And what about you? I saw the way you looked at her."   
“I just didn’t expect her to be so different, that’s all.”  
"Different," Clark said with a smile.   
“Yes, different. She’s all grown up and…”  
"Different," Clark said, trying his best to not laugh at his friend's discomfort.   
Clark had not intended any interaction between these two except a working relationship, but he would have to be blind not to see the instant connection he had just witnessed. He could almost visualize the pull between them as soon as Josie had entered the room. He found it very interesting.  
“Why do you call her my dear in French? Is there something going on between the two of you?”  
“It’s an old family joke. Our fathers, once upon a time, hoped the two of us would get married, but that never worked out. We have always had more of a sibling bond than anything else and both learned French as children. Calling each other “my dear” is a private joke between us: that if we never got married, we still had each other to fall back on if we got desperate.”  
“Does she not date or something? I mean she’s an attractive woman so why would she have to settle for you,’ Connor said teasingly.  
“If you had seen her last few boyfriends, then you would understand. She can really pick them.”   
Connor did not even have time respond before the door opened and Jo made a not so graceful entrance into her office. Connor was not sure if nerves were getting the better of her, but she tripped over the door jam, stumbled, and broke one of her heels before landing safely in his arms. The papers she had been holding flew throughout the office. It had been a mere reflex to try and help her as he was closest to her, but now she looked up, eyes wide, and faces almost touching. It was the space of several seconds before Connor helped her right herself on one broken shoe. Embarrassed, Jo looked down at her snapped heel and swore.   
“Dammit!”  
Jo stepped out of both shoes before picking the broken one up with an exasperated sigh. She caught Clark smiling at her in amusement.   
“Jo, I think you need to practice walking in heels more.”  
"Don't you start with me, Clark Daniel Fagan! You know the only reason I wear these is that I have to look ‘professional' while I'm fulfilling my academic obligations. It’s not like they will let me wear tactical gear in the classroom.”  
She walked around her desk and threw the shoes into the trash in frustration. Connor noted a touch of sarcasm in her voice as well as the air quotation marks she'd done during her rant and had to suppress another amused smile. She definitely was not what he had remembered. In Iraq, she has been quiet and studious, but the woman before him had a spirit that he had not picked up seven years' prior, granted their time together had been somewhat limited. Jo busied herself with clearing off two seats before sitting behind her desk. Connor cleared his throat and handed Jo her mail before sitting down.  
“Is the university keeping up their end of the bargain,” Clark asked.  
"So far, yes. I suffer through academia for two semesters a year in exchange for limitless fieldwork throughout the summer. They can hardly complain considering my work has helped build the reputation of this entire university. Interpol requests me almost every other summer, usually tracking down something stolen. After this spring I am up for tenure, and I am hoping that will mean less time stuck in the classroom and more field time. Or I may just quit and focus on fieldwork.” Jo paused to read the top paper in the stack of mail.   
"Umm Fagan…are you going to explain to me why I have been granted indefinite leave from my academic responsibilities by the Dean of Fine Arts? It says here that they have already found a substitute professor for all of my classes," she said as she looked over the top of the paper at Clark with fire in her eyes. Clark had known her long enough to know that surprises were not her forte. He shifted uncomfortably, wishing like hell his supervisor had not taken the liberty of contacting the university directly. In truth, he was surprised they had made it here before she had received the notification.  
“Well, ma Cherie…”  
“Cut the shit Clark and get to the point. What is going on?”  
Clark knew she was serious when she used his first name. She had been calling him Fagan since they were kids, so he opened the file he had with him and laid the photograph on her desk. Jo paled as she scrutinized the picture.   
"I can see from your expression that you recognize the page in that photograph. An intelligence analyst found this photo on an ISIS website two weeks ago and forwarded it up the chain of command. The text that went with the picture lauded their acquisition as a step in obtaining an ultimate weapon to dominate the region and then the world. When the photo hit my desk, I immediately recognized its significance and began putting together a mission within the Department of Defense, including Connor's rapid response team from DTRA."  
“The only way this would be a matter of national security is if they happened to find another page. That’s not possible!”   
She looked from Clark’s face to Connor’s and knew she was wrong. Connor could see the alarm growing in her eyes and hurried to explain.  
"A high-security vault was breached two days ago at the Jerusalem Museum, and another page was stolen. ISIS hasn't taken credit for it yet, but apparently, that page was a closely guarded secret. Only the curator and some high-level, government officials knew of its existence and location."   
Jo snorted, “I’d say they have a mole in their department.”  
“That is for the Israeli’s to sort out on their own,” Clark replied. “They are going after the plate, and you know what that means for the world if an organization like ISIS were to get their hands on it.”  
Jo set the photo down and looked at Clark. “ISIS isn’t who we need to worry about. Even with a weapon of mass destruction, they don’t have the technology to utilize the material according to the most recent NATO reports. The real problem is who they plan on selling it to. Why me? Why is this coming back around after all these years?”  
Connor’s interests perked when she mentioned having access to recent NATO reports, but he did not say anything. Clark did not want to be responsible for any bad blood between Jo and her father, so he chose his next words carefully.   
“You were my first choice for this project. You know more about this breastplate artifact that anyone else. You developed your entire dissertation around aspects of it. I also know that your father has kept extensive files on this thing since the accident, intelligence that we may not have. But I don't need to go into all the details about why you're qualified considering you know all this already. I thought you would like to finally finish what you started in Iraq and get some answers."  
Jo considered everything she said before turning her attention to Connor, who was sitting silently in his chair as if he hoped to be ignored during this whole exchange.   
“And you brought Serg…I’m sorry, Agent West, in why? Our previous time together hardly connects him to this project.”  
“Connor’s team is the best at what they do. And if this thing does turn out to be a weapon, that is their area of expertise.”  
“Well gentlemen, it looks like we are going to be working together for a while. I need to finish up a few things here and then stop by my apartment to pick up my gear and the dog. Finding a dog sitter for an open-ended period of time on short notice will be impossible. I’ll need to leave him up at Dad’s place when we pick up whatever research you think my father possess.” 

~~~~~~~

Connor felt like the intruder at the party as the three of them made their way to Josie’s apartment. Clark and Josie chatted about their lives since the last meeting on the way to her condo which was located on 73rd and Park. Connor sat in silence having been forgotten by the other two people in the car. This gave him a chance to observe Clark and Josie’s relationship: Josie sat on the front of the back seat with her arm around Clark’s seat, hugging his shoulders, as she affectionately teased him about still being single. When they entered her spacious flat, Connor was not prepared for the large, Staffordshire Terrier that bounded towards them as soon as the door opened. Blue and white and weighing at least 90 pounds, he greeted Jo and Clark with enthusiasm but eyed Connor and growled low when he tried to enter.   
“Marley, heel,” Jo said with authority, and he backed away so Connor could enter the condo. Jo smiled slightly, “Don’t worry, Marley won’t bite you. He doesn’t like new people, but you won’t be here that long. I’m going to change and then start packing my gear. Make yourselves at home.”   
Jo walked to her bedroom and shut the door. She leaned against it before letting out a long breath that she felt like she had been holding for hours. She quickly changed into jeans, black boots, and a tank top before walking back into the living room to find Clark gone, no dog to be seen, and Connor staring out the window at Central Park. She could tell this was going to be an awkward situation, but Josie would at least try and make the best of it. Connor could hear her standing behind him but could not bring herself to turn around, so he took to analyzing the many books on the shelves next to the windows. Usually adept at talking to anyone, he felt unusually awkward when it came to Joselyn McDowell. They had not seen each other in seven years, but he still carried the guilt around with him from that day.   
“Agent West, would you like some coffee?”  
“Do you have anything stronger?”  
“I don’t believe I do.”  
“Coffee is great then. Clark said he was taking Marley for a quick walk.”  
Jo muttered under her breath, "I bet he did," as she walked into the kitchen to make fresh coffee. Clark forever wanted Jo to find someone to settle down with, someone ‘worthy’ of her in his mind. He had made his dislike of her previous boyfriends pretty clear. She knew that this meeting had been about the mission, but she could not help but wonder if Clark had more in mind than just her working with Connor. She had seen a mischievous glint in his eye when Connor caught her in the office.  
“I shouldn’t be surprised that you are well read. You have an excellent selection of…”  
Connor froze with his sentence incomplete when he saw her shoulder, causing him to pause mid-sentence. It was covered with climbing ribbons of scar tissue that wound from her elbow, up her arm, and disappeared under her shirt. They were faded and blended in with her skin tone, but they could not be missed. Jo turned her head slightly, noticing where his gaze was directed, before turning with a cup of coffee in her hands. She leaned against the counter and watched as he took a look at her scars. The look of pain and guilt on his face, so Josie decided to break the tension.  
“Well, we might as well get this conversation out of the way sooner rather than later.”  
“Um…for once I have no idea what to say besides that I’m sorry.”  
“Agent West, what happened in the past is just that…in the past. You did everything in your power to protect me that day, and I expect that you would do the same again. That’s all I can ask out of a teammate.”  
Connor nodded but continued to stare down into his coffee mug until she squeezed his hand. He looked up quickly and saw a small smile in her eyes before she turned moved out of the kitchen.   
“I’m going to pack up my gear. Please tell Fagan to get the Marley ready and then we can leave.”  
Connor stayed where he was standing in the kitchen until he heard the bedroom door close and then made his way back to her bookshelves. Clark walked in with the dog to find him looking over a collection of Charles Dickens’ first editions. He could tell that something had happened in his absence, but Connor’s stance or expression did not invite questions, so Clark left it alone.

~~~~~~~~~  
Clark and Connor shared a relatively quiet ride north with Clark’s four-door, government-issue sedan was packed to the brim with gear. They followed closely behind Jo’s car which was packed to the brim with her “yappin hound” as Connor had called Marley in his Cajun accent. The dog had warmed up to him before they had left the city and was now content with his head hanging out the window. Clark’s mind was busy trying to figure out what had happened between his two friends while he had been gone. Jo and Connor conversed easily as they had packed up the cars, to the surprise of Clark. Connor spent the ride leaned back with his ball cap over his eyes trying to catch some sleep, but not able to keep Jo off his mind. He would have been surprised to know that he was on Jo’s mind as well.  
Jo kept her eyes on the road but stole a glance at the car behind her in her rearview when allowable. She thought about how the seven years had changed the soldier she remembered. The uniform was gone, but Connor looked every part the civilian in dark jeans, button-down shirt, and dress shoes. His face had the appearance of perpetual 5 o’clock shadow matching his dark brown hair, but peppered with gray. It was his steel blue eyes that she remembered the most. The last time she had seen those eyes, they were hard with fear as he hauled her out of the Humvee. Josie sighed as she considered the pull she felt whenever he looked at her. There was a connection between them that most people would never understand, but Josie had not seen the man for seven years, and now they were expected to work together. She could tell Connor was unsure of how to handle the situation, though she could see the attraction in his eyes when he looked at her. That was going to be another issue altogether, but right now Josie knew they needed to focus on her father.  
While Earl was going to be glad to see her, the fact that she was bringing Fagan and Connor was going to make her father furious. Heading back into Cambodia for another expedition would be more enjoyable than the reception they were about to receive. Jo pushed thoughts of Connor to the back of her mind as she prepared herself for the upcoming tense reunion with Major General McDowell. She already knew it was going to be a bad day.  
~~~~~~~~

Connor sat up with anticipation and straightened his ball cap as both cars started up the long drive towards General McDowell’s farm.   
“This is their family home?”  
"Intimidating isn't it," Clark said with a laugh.   
"It's been in the McDowell family for generations. General McDowell moved here after he retired and took it over. They’ve produced some pretty good races horse in the last twenty years.”  
They pulled up to a large, colonial-style home as Clark was about to continue until he noticed the General standing on the front stoop. Jo noticed her father had come out on the front porch having heard the cars pulling in. The smile on his face vanished when he saw the second car approaching. Jo sighed in anxious anticipation as she parked the car and let the Marley out. She heard the Connor and Clark get out of their vehicle and stole a glance at her father. His confused look had turned to one of fury as he realized who was in the car with Clark. Jo did not even bother to grab her bags from the trunk because she could see that the argument was going to start right then and there. There was no point in unpacking until she was sure they would all be staying.  
“What is the meaning of this,” Earl McDowell spat out between clenched teeth. He looked furious by the time all three were on the porch.   
“Papa, please. Let’s go inside and talk.”  
Earl would not look at his daughter. He furiously glared at Connor before turning his attention to Clark. "You think I don't know what this is about? After all these years and you show up with this guy, it isn't hard to put two and two together. You went straight to the source this time, but I won't go through this again. Not after all the work, I have done keeping her away from this."  
Jo had been looking down at her feet in frustration, but her head snapped back at attention with her father’s last sentence.  
“What do you mean, keeping me away from this?” Jo glared at her father who suddenly looked very uncomfortable when he realized what words had come out of his mouth.   
“Uh…”  
Jo looked at her father, then back at Clark before understanding dawned on her, and her voice lowered to a dangerous octave.  
“You’re the reason that the Department of Defense is the one agency who has never attempted to recruit me. Do you realize that with these contracts I could leave the university and work in the field full-time?”  
"You're safer at the university. At least there, you can only work in the field three months out of the year. I made a judgment call."  
“And what gives you the right to make a call about my career? And please, Papa, don’t say that you have that right because of what you went through during my recovery. You’ve used that line one too many times for it to be valid anymore.”  
“I’m just trying to protect you, Josie.”  
“I don’t need your protection anymore, Papa. I can take care of myself. I will live my life the way that I see fit, and if that is not something you can live with, then this will be my last visit.”  
Earl looked at his daughter in disbelief, but that look changed into one of resignation when he realized she was completely serious. He nodded in affirmation as Clark awkwardly cleared his throat. Connor readjusted his hat down over his eyes and looked at his shoes awkwardly.  
"General, we believe that ISIS is going after the pages with the intent to sell them to someone who has the technology to use the weapon. Your daughter is the best person for this job, and you know it."   
“Then what are you doing here? And why bring him in,” General McDowell asked with a glare at Connor.  
“I would trust Connor with my life and Jo’s too. Considering he did save her by pulling her out of that Humvee, his abilities should be of no concern. What is of concern, however, is the research that you have accumulated on the artifact. We need that file, sir.”  
Earl McDowell glared at Clark. The audacity to go behind his back to recruit his daughter, and then have the nerve to show up here demanding his files was astounding to him. He stole a glance at Josie, but she merely glared at him in a way that said she expected his cooperation. He hated it when she was angry at him, but he was going to stand his ground.  
“If you think I’m going to hand over anything to you…”  
“Assez," Jo snapped out. She squared off to her father and furiously spoke in French, hoping this would keep Connor knowing the disparaging comments she aimed towards her Papa. Clark nodded toward the back of the car, and they both moved in that direction as Josie lashed out at her father with such furry that both men wanted to stay out of her line-of-sight. When she had finished, General McDowell looked utterly defeated and nodded silently before walking into the house. Josie looked at the two standing near the trunk of Clark’s car, trying to be invisible until she calmed down.   
“Fagan, please be kind enough to show Connor to a room upstairs and then meet my father in his study to get his files. Are you staying the weekend?”  
“No, I was hoping your old man would run me up to the airport. I’ll meet you both in Virginia by Sunday evening.”  
"I have a feeling he will be more than willing to get out of the house. I'm fairly certain he probably won't talk to us the rest of the weekend. Who knew the silent treatment could be such a fucking blessing!"   
Connor watched as Josie grabbed her gear and walked into the house, still furious about the entire interaction. She quickly changed into workout clothes and walked to a large outbuilding. Connor saw her from his window and made his way downstairs to follow her. He was sure that Josie did not know he understood French. Cajun and French were very similar, but then again, she probably did not know his background. Not only had Josie taken her father to task for being rude to a guest, but in no uncertain terms said that she was going to be working on this project whether he liked it or not. But the part that had surprised him was that she had mentioned that she trusted Connor. That trust spoke volumes to him and hopefully would help him learn to trust her in return. There was no point in her joining this assignment if they could not trust each other. They needed to get to know each other at least on a professional level, though Connor wondered about the possibility of knowing her on a more personal level as well. There was no denying that he had found her instantly attractive, but Connor knew that he could not treat her like he had the other women in his life. At least and not have Clark try and kill him for it.

~~~~~

Connor met Clark in the hallway outside of the General McDowell’s study. He had changed into jeans and a long-sleeve shirt but was still wearing his hat.   
“Did you get what we need?”  
“Yes, and he’s going to take me to the airport here in about thirty minutes. Will you be alright here for two days?”  
"I'm sure I'll hold my own. As you said, we need to get used to each other before training starts on Monday, or this will never work. There needs to be trust there."   
"Exactly. I'm going to grab my things and get ready to leave. Would you mind tracking Jo down and explaining the schedule to her? The airport is an hour and a half trip each way so you should have plenty of time without her father's overbearing presence."   
“How would you suggest handling him?”  
“Honestly, I urge you not to go into specifics with him, and I’d maintain a distance from him because you are not his favorite person right now. Actually, neither am I,” Clark said with some sarcasm, “but then again, I’m not staying here with him. Watch your six.”  
“Copy that.” Connor turned away and found his way to the back door of the house. He walked quickly across the lawn to where the building stood that Josie had entered and immediately heard music blaring from inside. As he entered, Connor found himself in a state-of-the-art gym with all the equipment you could find anywhere in the world. Weight machines, free weights, climbing rope, boxing ring, and various bags. He looked around, impressed until he found Josie in the back working a heavy bag with MMA gloves on. Connor walked up to her and watched her form for several minutes, impressed at her skill before he spoke.  
"Rotate your hips," Connor shouted, so he could be heard over the music. Josie spun around, startled and breathing heavily, to look at him.   
“What?”  
“Rotate your hips more when you kick. It will pack more punch”, Connor said as he pushed his hat back with a smile. Josie spun, landing a powerful roundhouse kick on the bag and making it swing excessively, before turning back to Connor with her hands on her hips.  
“What are you doing out here?”  
“Your father gave Clark what he needed, and they are leaving shortly for the airport. I guess that means it's just you and me for dinner."  
Josie nodded and started to pull off her gloves when Connor walked up to help her unwrap her hands. She could smell the spicy scent of his cologne as he stood close, never breaking eye contact with her. Josie looked back at him, seeing clearly that he found her attractive at that moment. Connor was so brazen about his expression that she was surprised when he did not try to hide it.   
“Did you mean what you said earlier?”  
“Earlier?”  
“Yes, when you told your father that you trust me.”  
“You understand French, Agent West?”  
“I speak Creole. Did you mean it?”  
“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t,” Josie said as she gathered up the wraps and gloves to put away. Connor followed behind her as she stowed the gear and grabbed a drink from her water bottle. They both looked at each other for several moments, contemplating the entire situation, before Connor cracked a charming smile and followed Josie outside toward the house.  
"Well, in that case, you should probably call me Connor."   
“Connor," Josie asked, not entirely ready for his response.  
“Yes, Connor. I have a feeling it’s going to be a pleasure working with you, Doc.”  
Connor stuck out a hand and waited for Josie to make up her mind. She looked at him before chuckling and shaking his hand.  
“Well Connor, the first thing you can do is help me close up the house. There’s a bad storm blowing in.”  
“It’s nice to see you found a use for me.”  
"Eh…you have some potential," Jose said with a teasing glimmer to her eyes.   
Connor shook his head and followed Josie toward the house with a smirk. 

With the storm blowing in looking like a doozy, Earl McDowell decided he was going to stay by the airport and return to the farm in the morning. Everyone seemed to accept this as the safest scenario, and Connor silently thanked the Lord that Earl was not going to be able to glare at him until the morning at least. Clark walked up to Connor to say his goodbyes, concern on his face. Connor spoke in a hushed tone as they shook hands.  
“I promise I’ll take care of her Clark. You have my word.”   
“What are you guys going to do tonight?”  
“She said something about cooking dinner.”  
"Good luck," Clark said with an amused chuckle at the idea of Josie cooking.   
“Why is that funny? Is she a terrible cook?”  
Clark chuckled before heading out to the general’s car. He waited in the car while Jo said a few words to her father and then they were on their way to the airport. He had only two days before the team was to assemble in Virginia, and he needed every minute to analyze the new information he received. The general was slightly dubious about leaving Josie and Connor by themselves but resigned to the fact that there was nothing to be done. He was sullen as the car pulled onto the highway, but Clark spoke to reassure him.  
"I promise you, sir, he would willingly lay down his life before letting her get hurt."   
The general nodded but did not respond. The entire two-hour drive was to be a silent and boring one for Clark.


End file.
